


Flopsy, Mopsy, and Dammit-Jim-NO!

by Janice_Lester



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Drugs, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janice_Lester/pseuds/Janice_Lester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone made the mistake of letting Jim Kirk sign up for advanced science courses. There are consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flopsy, Mopsy, and Dammit-Jim-NO!

**Author's Note:**

> Crack. Misbehaviour. Drug manufacture. Misuse of Starfleet Academy facilities. Beta'd by [](http://nix-this.livejournal.com/profile)[nix_this](http://nix-this.livejournal.com/).  
> 

 

There was nothing like a body incessantly pacing the confines of a standard infirmary examination room to call up the sensation of walls closing in and remind you just how small the blasted things were. If Jim didn’t knock it off in the next twenty seconds, McCoy was pretty sure a board would have a hard time declaring him fully culpable for his actions.

“Sympathy, Bones. You’re a doctor, you must have felt something like that before, right?”

Actually, the only thing McCoy felt was the tic developing on his forehead, over his left eye. “Certainly, Jim. Maybe I try to save the lion’s share for folks who don’t bring their misfortunes on themselves.”

Jim froze mid-turn, one foot raised, to stare like a deeply offended goldfish. He looked unbalanced enough that a good breeze might knock him over, but unfortunately they were not graced at this propitious moment by the sudden arrival of that over-eager nursing cadet with the charming habit of sending things flying. “It’s not my fault the biology department’s out to get me!”

“Jim.” McCoy crossed his arms, began to affect his most forbidding _do what your damn doctor says or your health is really gonna kick you in the ass_ look. But direct action did tend to work better with this particular recalcitrant patient, so he got up, grabbed Jim Kirk by the shoulders and made him sit down on the bed. Then he loomed. “Whatever personality clashes you may have with some—” or _all_ “—of the teaching staff, fact remains that you are _breeding genetically-modified Andorian snow bunnies_ in your dorm room and _refining their droppings for the lucrative hallucinogenic content_.”

Jim nodded as if this was old news. “Yeah, yeah. But I’m not even recreationally sampling the merchandise, and it does totally demonstrate my mastery of Advanced Genetics II lab techniques _and_ Intermediate Chem, so, really, what is the big deal?”

McCoy’s huff stirred his regulation bangs. “You are violating about three dozen campus and Starfleet regs, and quite possibly local law to boot.”

“Nah.” Jim dismissed the concern with a flick of his wrist. “Perfectly legal. Not even on the controlled drugs register. Now, if I wasn’t separating the S and R enantiomers and was just selling the racemic mix—”

McCoy gave up. “Call me when you get summoned before a board for this, okay? I got a lawyer owes me a favour.”

“Thanks, Bones,” Jim said, grinning and slapping his shoulder. “You’re a good buddy. Drinks later?”

Probably a good opportunity to question his life choices, McCoy decided. Again.

 _Damn_ , he thought as the doors swished closed behind Jim's retreating rear. _Didn’t even get a chance to give him the blasted vaccine._

***

The snow bunnies _were_ adorable, McCoy had to admit. Fluffy and doe-eyed and purring. Blunt little twitchy noses.

“You know, I bet your daughter would love a pet like this.”

McCoy frowned. Joanna would _undoubtedly_ love one. Jocelyn, of course, would have something to say about it. Even if she _wasn’t_ allergic to fur.

“It would suit me,” Jim said. “She could totally look after Flopsy there, or Bundles, or The Velociraptor.” He patted The Velociraptor absently, oblivious to its repeated attempts to bite him. “Provided she’d be kind enough to mail me back raw material periodically.” He got a dangerously thoughtful look. “Hey, she and her mom live on a farm, right? Lots of space? So they could probably house a lot of rabbits. I could totally cut her in for a nice, juicy slice of—”

It was a myth that folks could actually _feel_ their blood pressure rising. Well, mostly. “James T. Kirk, you are _not_ making my _six-year-old daughter_ an accessory to drug trafficking.” He glared fiercely enough to make clear that the matter was settled.

Jim pouted and muttered something about investments and college funds and astute kids being prepared for their futures. McCoy assiduously tuned him out. Flopsy butted gently at his hand, wanting attention. He might have melted, just a little bit.

***

As expected--by everyone except Jim--the Starfleet Academy Powers That Be did not, in fact, side with Cadet Kirk in his interpretation of a) appropriate cadet conduct, b) appropriate ways to demonstrate how much cadets had learned in their science classes, and c) appropriate use of campus resources.

“It wasn’t my fault,” McCoy protested--quite honestly--as Jim surveyed his dorm room in obvious dismay. The Security guys had been thorough. All the cages were gone, and the feeding supplies, and the temperature control systems, only the occasional pellet or scrap of straw on the carpet--and a holocard for the local no-kill animal shelter which had apparently been dropped by one of the security goons--to suggest that even a single rabbit had once resided here.

Jim gave him a look. “Really. So your inexplicable insistence on vaccinating everyone on this floor against weird rabbit-borne diseases had nothing to do with it?”

McCoy shrugged. “Couldn’t have predicted that someone upstairs would actually bother to read my report for once.”

“You suck,” Jim said. “Just so you know, my next project was to breed ‘em so they’d excrete actual medicine, but I’m completely disheartened now. Crushed. Deflated.”

“It shows,” McCoy observed wryly. “You’d have been turned in long ago if your last roommate hadn’t flaked out with such alacrity.”

Jim’s unconvincing air of dejection gave way to a shrug. “Eh. More time for my other brilliant ideas, I guess. And I’m sure the animal shelter will find them all great new homes. Especially once I let my loyal customers know their bunnies need them. I’ll miss Flopsy, though. But your Jo will send me lots of cute pictures, right?” He patted his pockets. “Actually, she sent me one already.” He produced the photocard from his wallet, tapped it until it displayed the picture he wanted, held it up for McCoy to see. And there was his daughter, her little arm full of Flopsy the Bunny while her other hand held the camera, grinning like she loved her new friend so much she’d never let it go.

Jim Kirk. Sent his daughter. A bunny.

McCoy scowled. He’d have to call his family’s doctor to recommend vaccinations and heavy-duty anti-histamines, and then he’d have to apologise to Joss who would, quite understandably, blame him for this unasked-for, non-returnable gift which would give her a permanent case of the sniffles while doing its very best to eat their furniture, fertilise their carpet, and stars knew what else besides--

Jim was beaming. That was seldom a good sign. “You know, she’s got, like, six kittens in that fuzzy little tummy. Might have been seven, the scan wasn’t all that clear.” He beamed even brighter. “Do you think they’ll all have the awesome floppy ears?”

A _pregnant_ bunny. Full of babies. Soon there’d be a swarm of the things. They might even manage to eat the whole _house_ \--

Jim was miming the ears. It was not endearing. “I mean, the penetrance on the floppy ear allele is pretty high, but then you can never entirely account for the--”

For years to come, McCoy would insist that the hypo he unceremoniously stabbed Cadet Kirk with at this point was merely a booster shot against certain lapine-carried diseases, and entirely medically justified. He took no pleasure in it. At all. Any remarks he may or may not have made during the administration of the said medical treatment are neither here nor there. Besides, there were no witnesses, not even a bunny.

 

***END***

This fic now has a companion piece, _Mork, Marvin, Megatron, and Dammit-Jim-NO!_. [[LJ](http://janice-lester.livejournal.com/219909.html) | [DW](http://janice-lester.dreamwidth.org/184675.html) | [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/739762)] 


End file.
